"He cannot understand you,” said the slave.
"Not as you understand me,” said Cabot, “but in other ways, by the slow movements of the body, not threatening, the softness of the voice, the gentleness of its tones."
The sleen again snarled.
"It could reach you!” whispered the slave. “Come away, Master!"
"Yes,” said Cabot, softly, elatedly. “It could reach me now."
"Please, Master!"
"But it has not,” said Cabot.
The beast turned its head, to watch Cabot, warily, as he moved slowly to the clamped, sharpened, viselike teeth of the trap.
Cabot, for a human being, was quite strong. Doubtless many are stronger, but, for a human being, he was quite strong.
Cabot set his hands between the teeth of the trap and, sweating, straining, eased them a little open, and his hands were covered with blood and torn hair, and the sleen watched him, and Cabot, grunted, fighting for breath, and opened the teeth a bit more, and a little more, and then the sleen, with a scream of pain, drew its useless leg from the trap's jaws, leaving skin and flesh clinging to the teeth, and scrambled away, and Cabot, gratefully, reduced his grip on the jaws of the trap, and then he jerked his fingers away, and it snapped shut, the teeth fitting together, on nothing. Cabot then sat on the bloodied ground, trying to catch his breath.
"Are you all right, Master?” asked the slave.
"Yes,” said Cabot. “Where is the sleen?"
"It is gone,” said the slave.
Chapter, the Forty-Second:
THE RAMP;
THE LADDER
"The smell is frightful,” whispered the slave.
"It is the stockyards,” said Cabot.
"Are they truly human?” she asked.
"I am not sure,” said Cabot. “I think so."
"They are meat,” she said.
"They are bred that way,” said Cabot.
"Can they speak?"
"No, they are not speeched,” said Cabot.
"Many of the pens are empty,” said the slave.
"The killing has begun,” said Cabot.
"Where are the guards?” she asked.
"Guards are not needed,” said Cabot, “only attendants, herders, such things."
Cabot then went to one of the pens, in which there were several of the creatures.
"Anyone could unlatch this gate,” said Cabot.
"They have not done so,” said the slave, wonderingly.
Cabot opened the gate, widely.
He gestured to the creatures, encouraging them to leave, but they did not much note him, save to distend their nostrils, as though smelling for food, but, as Cabot did not bear the swill buckets with him, they turned away.
"They do not wish to leave the food troughs,” said Cabot.
"I had a terrible thought,” she said.
"What is that?” asked Cabot.
"What if they could vote?” she said.
"They cannot,” said Cabot.
"But what if they could?"
"Then fellows would rise up and make use of them, as a path to power,” said Cabot.
"The smell sickens me,” she said.
Cabot opened several more of the pens. “When they get hungry enough,” he said, “I am sure they will wander out."
"Perhaps they will wait by the food troughs, and starve,” she said.
"Surely some will leave the pens,” said Cabot.
"What will become of them?"
"I do not know,” said Cabot. “Perhaps some of the humans can care for them, or herd them to safety."
"They cannot care for themselves,” said the slave.
"I do not think so,” said Cabot.
"They are like animals, to be cared for,” she said.
"And then eaten,” said Cabot.
"Most of the pens are empty,” said the slave.
"It took us two days to reach the pens,” said Cabot.
"I am not sure they are human,” she said.
"No,” said Cabot. “They are human."
"Not now,” whispered the slave.
"Then later, perhaps generations later,” said Cabot.
"Look!” whispered the slave.
"Ai,” said Cabot. “I see!"
"The line of them, being led up that ramp,” she said.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"They follow, blindly,” said the slave.
"See the lead human, with the bell on her neck,” said Cabot.
"Yes,” said the slave.
"She is leading them. They are following her, trustingly. They do not know where they are being taken."
"Where are they being taken?"
"I fear,” said Cabot, “to the slaughter bench."
"She has not only a bell on her neck,” said the slave, “but something on her head, as well."
"It is hard to see,” said Cabot. “No, it sparkles."
"A crown?” said the slave.
"A coronet,” said Cabot. “A tiara!"
"She is different from the others,” said the slave. “She is not massive as they, not mere meat, encircling heavy bones."
"Surely you recognize her,” said Cabot.
"No,” said the slave.
"It is the Lady Bina,” he said.
"Here?"
"She is leading them to slaughter,” said Cabot.
The bell could be heard, even where Cabot and the slave stood.
"Doubtless she has no choice,” said the slave.
"Let us hope not,” said Cabot.
"I do not understand,” said the slave.
"The cattle will follow the bell, and the human who wears it,” said Cabot. “Such things are common in slaughter houses. There is a shoot. The lead animal, at the last moment, slips through a gate to the side, and the line behind it continues to move forward, and downward, to the great hammers, or to the ropes and slings, to be suspended, dangling, for the knives, such things."
"Can we interfere?"
"We must,” said Cabot.
"What is the crown she wears?” asked the slave.
"A tiara,” said Cabot.
"A tiara?"
"That of a Ubara,” said Cabot.
"I do not understand,” said the slave.
"It is a joke,” said Cabot.
"I do not understand,” said the slave.
"Lord Agamemnon, it seems,” said Cabot, “has a sense of humor. Hurry. Hurry!"
Cabot clambered to the ramp, and hoisted the girl up beside him. The cattle, those near him, regarded him dully, and then continued to plod upward.
Cabot and the slave raced upward.
The passageway became narrower and narrower.
They were nearly to the top of the shoot, when the Lady Bina, now cattle, unclothed, a bell on her neck, a tiara fastened in her blonde hair, saw them.
She looked at them, once, wildly, startled, astonished to see them here, and then, regarding them, laughed merrily, and then, suddenly aware of her location and the press behind her in the now-narrowed passageway, admitting now only a single file, she turned about, and seized the small gate to her right, to slip through it.
She jerked at the gate, and then jerked at it, again.
It was locked.
She pulled at the gate, again and again, frantically.
Then she uttered a long, wild scream of terror, of protest, and was swept forward in the shoot by the press of the moving cattle.
Her screaming could be heard further down the shoot.
Her bell still rang.
"We cannot get through these bodies!” said Cabot. “We must go back, go around!"
"There will not be time!” cried the slave.
Cabot raced back down the ramp, the slave hurrying after him.
"No, no, no!” they heard, weird and shrill, then fainter and fainter, the screams behind them, as they raced down the ramp.
The throat of the Lady Bina, of course, was not constructed to utter Kur, nor would she know much of that language, saving perhaps to recognize some words addressed to her, and what Kurii might be in the facility would be unlikely to have translators, or, even, if so, would not be likely to have them switched on, as there would be no need for such devices here, for there was nothing human in the vicinity, or, perhaps more carefully put, nothing in the vicinity which was both human and speeched.